


Repairing and Remembering

by Elendiliel



Series: Lightning Strikes [21]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Planet Lothal (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: Needing to fix her lightsabre after the Battle of Crait, Rey travels to Lothal, where an expert in such things can apparently be found. But that's not all she'll find there.
Series: Lightning Strikes [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087898
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Repairing and Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> Mild spoilers for Season 4 of _Rebels_ ahead. Proceed with caution, or just skip this one, if required.
> 
> Yes, I know my chronology is getting steadily messier. I don't consciously control which plots occur to me most of the time. This one is at least thematically linked to the previous story.

“This is the place, R2.” Rey said it more to reassure herself than to inform her companion, but the ‘mech replied anyway, his tone suggesting that he knew the real purpose of her statement, but was choosing to take her words literally. Two could play at that game.

“Yes, I’m sure. Look, you’ve got the map – why don’t you check?”

While R2 did so, possibly reflecting once again that playing the face-value game with Rey never ended well, his human friend moved a little further towards the rock cave that, according to both Leia’s instructions and her own senses, was their destination. It seemed a strange place to find an expert in building and fixing lightsabres, all the way out here on First Order-occupied Lothal, in the middle of nowhere. But good things often came from strange places. She herself, although she would never presume to say so, was living proof of that.

“Who’s there?” The voice from inside the cave was female, with a Core-like accent broadened and softened by a trace of something more unusual, and so unexpected that it physically made Rey jump. As far as could be determined given the cave’s acoustics, its owner was coming closer as she continued to speak. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying. And if you’re First perishing Order, buzz off for your own good.”

“I’m not selling anything!” Rey wasn’t sure why her heart was suddenly hammering – or why the reaction wasn’t one of fear, but of excitement. “And I’m certainly not with the First Order.”

“You can say that again!” The woman was visible now, taller than Rey, slim but strong, with pointed ears and deep golden brown eyes. Her hair, falling to her waist in a single braid and curling at the ends, was silver, frosted with white, but that, other than the look in her eyes, was the only sign of age. Her pale, striking face was unlined, and she moved with the grace and agility of someone in her twenties. Rey’s eyes were immediately drawn to the copper-inlaid durasteel cylinder on her right hip, which could only be one type of weapon. “Sorry, I didn’t sense you there. Skies above, I’m out of practice. Koh-to-ya, Padawan-?” Rey took a moment to work out the implicit question.

“Rey. Who are you?”

“Helli Abbasa, at your service. Usually known as Hel. And before you ask, yes, I’m a Jedi. As, I presume, are you. What are you doing here?”

Rey had indeed been going to double-check that what her senses were telling her was true. She supposed Abbasa must have heard that question a lot over the decades. If she really were a survivor from before the Clone Wars – and she could have been the right age, though it was hard to be certain – she had been one of an endangered species for half a century. She put such speculations out of her mind to answer Hel’s question. “General Organa sent me. I need to repair my lightsabre.”

“Leia? Well, you’ve come to the right place, although I’m not sure how she knew that. Then again, she always was very intuitive – a lot like both her blood-parents. Come this way. You too, R2. Good to see you again.” Rey and R2 followed Hel into the cave system, which turned out to be a lot more extensive than it looked, well-lit, and with signs of deliberate excavation here and there.

“Professor?”, Hel called out as they reached an area that was clearly her living space, and a workroom. On one side, the rock face had been carved to hold hundreds of drawers, each neatly labelled with the name of a material or component, and a table held a half-constructed device that defied identification. On the other were a mismatched pair of comfortable-looking chairs that seemed to Rey’s expert eye to have been salvaged from somewhere and carefully repaired, either side of a portable heater. Another table, with the same reclaimed look, supported the makings of tea and caf, and a remarkable array of both. The wall on that side was decorated with a few holoimages, all groups. Rey made a mental note to examine them later. Her mission had to come first, but she was _very_ curious about this woman, and this place. “You’ve got a new student.”

“Well, short my circuits!” The old-fashioned accent of the mysterious “Professor” didn’t sound as though it belonged to a droid, but as its owner entered the room, Rey saw that it did. A silver-plated android of a class even she didn’t recognise. “What can I do for you, young one?”

“Rey, this is Professor Huyang.” Hel could clearly see that her housemate (cave-mate?) wasn’t going to introduce himself if he had a tantalising new challenge to distract him. “He’s taught a thousand generations of Jedi to construct their sabres. Huyang, this is Rey. The new Jedi.”

“Ah, yes, of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rey. I’ve been wondering when you’d come here ever since Hel here sensed your awakening. I presume you require my professional assistance?”

Wordlessly, Rey held out the two halves of her lightsabre, a sight that seemed to fill Huyang with dismay. “Oh, dear. What _have_ you been doing to this?” He took the pieces of sabre and examined them through a built-in magnifying glass while she explained about her Force-contest with Kylo Ren in the _Supremacy_ ’s throne room. He didn’t seem be paying attention, until she finished and his assessment took her by surprise.

“Both you and young Solo must be extraordinarily strong with the Force. Once a lightsabre has been constructed, it’s very difficult to damage it like this, and very dangerous too. The crystal seems to have reacted badly to being mishandled, and burnt out several key components. I think I have replacements for them all, but it’ll take a while to find them. Hel, why don’t you make Rey and yourself some tea while R2 and I search?”

That suited both women, and the astromech, who appeared to be an old friend of Huyang’s. As the half-binary, half-Basic conversation started up on Huyang’s side of the room, Hel invited Rey to sit down on her side while she busied herself with tea-brewing. Rey took the opportunity to examine the holos more closely. Hel was in all of them, much younger, but with the same intense eyes staring out above a broad grin. They were arranged chronologically, as far as Rey could tell. The earliest was of just two people, Hel aged perhaps twelve and a Gungan in Jedi robes, his hands on her shoulders, both of them proud and excited. Then there was one of half a dozen children, all about fifteen or sixteen, arms around one another. A Besalisk, an Aqualish, an Iktotchi, a Kel Dor, a Mon Cala, and Hel (the youngest), alternating male and female. Each, like the Gungan in the first picture, wore a lightsabre of a different design. They were all Jedi. Her master and her friends, surely now long dead.

The next two images could only be from the Clone Wars. In one, Hel stood in the middle of a line otherwise composed of four near-identical men in stormtrooper-like armour. Only their hairstyles and a tattoo on one man’s right temple distinguished them, apart from the decorated helmets under their arms. The same four men were in the next holo as well, along with four others recognisably related to them, but hardly conventional clones. Rey found it hard to describe them in any other way. One of the first group had been through the mill in the intervening time; he looked positively emaciated, and she could see cybernetic implants in his head and arm, but his expression betrayed only joy at being with the people he loved.

The picture after that – Rey had only heard of family groups as a vague concept, but this was clearly one of them. A peculiar family, but definitely family. Hel, her hair (red-brown in the other holos) dyed blue-black, stood at the back with three of the four men from the third image, behind six children, maybe twelve years old, all of different species, but so obviously joined by more than normal friendship. An Ithorian, a Nautolan, a Tholothian, a human, a Rodian and a Wookiee. Their poses and expressions, presumably unconsciously, echoed those of Hel, her friends and her master in the first two holos. Were the children her apprentices?

The final image was by far the most crowded. As well as Hel, the four clones and her probable padawans, all about twenty years older, there was a Twi’lek woman with her half-human son in her arms, a C-series astromech, a Lasat, a human girl about Rey’s age in highly decorated Mandalorian armour, two other clones, a tall, blond human who held himself like a soldier, a free-floating droid bobbing behind one of the clones, and – Rey’s heart skipped a beat – right in the middle of the picture, thirty years younger than when she had last seen either of them, the Skywalker twins.

“Tea’s ready.” Rey jumped again as Hel came up beside her, a steaming mug in either hand. She passed one to Rey and wrapped both hands around the other. The older woman moved as silently as a lothcat.

“Thank you. I was just looking at these. Who are they all?”

“This one’s my teacher.” She indicated the Gungan. “Master Yord Qass. Gentle and kind, but he didn’t tolerate injustice – or suffer fools gladly. Stars know why he chose me. That was taken the day I began my apprenticeship with him.” She moved on to the next holo. “My closest friends as a padawan. Kori, Nhanta, Vuda, Ma’ro and Nahdar.” Her voice cracked ever so slightly on the last name. She didn’t elaborate, but carried on. “My unit in the Clone Wars. Spark, Torrent, Fives and Echo. Together, we made up Lightning Squadron. We could handle just about anything, and I rather think we did over the years. This one was taken after our first operation, and this one,” indicating the picture with the other four clones, “after a joint mission with Clone Force 99. They called themselves the Bad Batch. The cloning process wasn’t perfect, but sometimes the mutations it produced were useful – hence this lot. Hunter, Crosshair, Tech and Wrecker. Mad as a box of amphibians, but somehow we got along pretty well.” Her wry smile became one of pure affection as she reached the family group. “My apprentices.” Rey had been right. “Byph, Zatt, Katooni, Petro, Ganodi and Gungi. I probably shouldn’t have taken them on, but after the Purge I didn’t have a lot of choice. And it worked out much better than I anticipated.” The last picture. “That’s us with most of the Spectres, Luke and Leia, the day after Endor. Hera, Jacen, Chopper, Zeb, Sabine, Rex, Wolffe and Alexsandr. Oh, and AZI-3. He’s an honorary member of Lightning Squadron. Long story.”

“Where are they all now?” Remembering how the Clone Wars had ended, Rey immediately regretted the question, but she couldn’t take it back.

“Some of them live in the Force and my memory.” It was a very Jedi way of putting it. “My master and Nahdar were killed in the war. Kori, Nhanta and Vuda were caught out by Order 66 – do you know about that?” As it happened, Rey did. The entire Republic Army had been conditioned to kill their commanders at a given signal. “Ma’ro escaped, but an Inquisitor tracked her down. She put up a good fight, by all accounts, but she was always better at talking than fighting.”

She shook her head slightly, dispelling unwanted thoughts and memories. “I survived only because Fives found out enough about the conditioning for him and our brothers to escape it. Mostly, anyway. Torrent faked our deaths and stayed in the army as a double agent, while the rest of us went renegade. So did the Bad Batch, after the clone army was demobilised. We fought the Empire all the way through, alone or as part of the Alliance, while they went off and did their own thing. We ran into one another occasionally, before and after the rebellion. There was a _lot_ of clearing up to do, even after Jakku, and we did our fair share. But time caught up with my brothers eventually. They were designed to age at twice the rate of other humans so that they’d be ready to fight quickly, and my species ages a little more slowly than yours.” She didn’t have to finish the explanation. Rey could work it out very easily. Hel’s clone friends – brothers, she’d called them – had survived two wars, but nobody could outrun time forever. It seemed unfair, but death so often was.

Shaking off her sorrow again, Hel kept talking. “My padawans – not that they’re padawans any more – are scattered all over the place. Doing what we always used to do – finding out where they’re needed and helping out, without revealing their identities. I hear from them now and again. Not as often as I’d like, but I understand that that’s normal. I’ve completely lost track of a lot of the Spectres. I know Zeb and Alex moved to Lira San after the rebellion, and I think Sabine returned to Mandalore, though I don’t know how long she stayed. None of them are good at staying put. And last I heard from AZI-3, he was working in a new hospital on Coruscant, and happy as anything.”

“How did you end up here?” From what little Rey could see of Hel’s past and character, she also wasn’t the type to stay put, certainly not this far out in the Outer Rim. But Master Kenobi had, she knew, for a very good reason.

“Did you see the two circles of clear ground on your way here?” Rey had. One smaller than the other, and more clearly defined. The Force had been _so_ strong just there. “There used to be a Jedi Temple there, and a portal to the World Between Worlds. Both had to be closed for good before Palpatine,” there were star systems of pain deep, deep within her tone as she named the former Emperor, “could use them, but that kind of power can’t be kept at bay forever. If the First Order ever finds this place, and finds a way to raise the Temple, or reopen the portal – it doesn’t bear thinking about.” _First Order_ , Rey noted, not _Kylo Ren_. She wouldn’t have expected _Snoke_ – Hel must surely have sensed his death. Had she known Ben Solo, when he was her friend’s apprentice? Was that why she didn’t use his new name or title?

Regardless, it explained why a wanderer by nature was tied to one planet. Rey had been right – she was protecting something. “So that’s why you’re living here. As a guardian.”

“For now. Until the First Order is no longer a threat to the balance of the Force. And before you ask about Huyang, Luke sent him to me before going into exile. He’d been living with us or in the new Temple since Luke and I found him in the old one on Coruscant, in quite a state. He’s as close to being Force-sensitive as any droid has yet been, and knows more about lightsabres than anyone in the history of the galaxy. Almost every youngling and padawan for a thousand generations has constructed their sabre under his guidance. The Sith would _love_ to get their hands on him, if only to keep him out of ours, but they won’t – not if I can help it.”

The subject of her explanation called over to them just then. Rey hoped he hadn’t heard them talking, but he was a droid; he probably had. “Padawan Rey, I believe I’ve found everything you need. If you and Hel are done chatting, we can get started.” Rey hurried over, Hel striding behind. She never seemed to move quickly, or slowly. Only at the right time.

Huyang had already stripped out the damaged components and laid out their replacements. He had also found a diagram of the inner workings of a lightsabre. But there didn’t seem to be any tools around.

“The Force, young lady, is the only tool you need. Without it, your lightsabre is just so much metal and kyber.” Huyang didn’t even wait to be asked the question. “Now, before we get started, do you think you should make any changes to the design?”

“No.” Rey was taken aback by the speed of her own answer. “It was perfect as it was.”

“Perfect for Anakin Skywalker, perhaps. Lightsabres are unique, like those who create them. I wasn’t surprised when young Luke lost this one and had to make his own. But I think you’re right. Your own design will come in time. Meanwhile, let’s get this fixed up.”

He talked Rey, expertly but none too gently, through mending Luke’s – she couldn’t think of it as Anakin’s – old sabre. At first, it seemed nearly impossible to levitate all the pieces and slot them together, and Huyang was clearly struggling to make allowances for her unusual (for a Jedi) upbringing. But gradually, it became easier, as though the device already knew how it should be assembled, and were cooperating in the process.

Finally, her task was done. The shattered casing bore a weld-mark akin to a scar, and was reinforced by Rey’s wrist-strap, but the newly repaired crystal and other components were all in place, she thought. Huyang examined it through his magnifier once more, and while he had no facial expressions, his body language and tone suggested that he was impressed. “Right first time. And faster than most. I must congratulate you, young lady.”

“I’m used to fixing things.” Rey had half-expected to be tired or dizzy from using the Force for so long, but instead she felt elated. She had done it. She had a lightsabre again.

“Why don’t you try it out?”, Huyang asked. “Hel’s been longing for a new sparring partner.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Hel agreed, and led the way to another cave, unmistakably her training room. The two women faced one another in the central space that, had this been a room for more than one person most of the time, would have been the sparring ring, and ignited their sabres, adopting identical guarding positions. Hel’s sabre had two blades, both an unusual blue-green colour. That might make life a bit more difficult, but Rey thought she was in with a chance. Hel was fifty-five years older than her and clearly out of practice.

It didn’t make enough difference, she quickly found out. Hel never made the first move, but blocked, parried and countered with perfect timing. But not always with her sabre. Fists, boots, elbows, knees, shoulders, even her head – she fought with every part of her body. Was that a reaction to her years of hiding, or normal for her? Rey tried to respond with some unconventional attacks of her own, and actually managed to land a few blows, but Hel didn’t seem to notice. As a fast kick sent Rey’s newly repaired sabre flying and Hel brought the tip of hers to the young woman’s throat, she wondered what this Jedi had been like in her prime, if this was her in her seventies.

“You’re good,” Hel noted as they caught their breath on a bench at the side of the room. “I haven’t come across a padawan at your level since Ben. Maybe not since Luke.”

“You’re better.” Rey was too tired to form a complete sentence. Her erstwhile opponent tossed her head dismissively. “I’ve fought for my life, and those of probably billions of others by now, on a regular basis for over sixty years. I started learning to fight when I was five. And I’ve always been too stubborn to quit until I win, or until even I know I’m beaten – which doesn’t happen often. But I think you’ll be at least as good long before you get to my age. Interesting technique, by the way. Forms IV and V? Maybe a touch of III?”

“I don’t know. Master Skywalker didn’t tell me anything about that.”

“In your situation, I’m not surprised. All you need to know is how to stay alive. Everything else is window-dressing. But Form V was always Anakin’s favourite, and he was good at Form IV too. Likewise Luke, and Leia, unless she’s changed significantly in the last however-long. And am I right in thinking your first weapon was the staff?”

“Yes, it was. How could you tell?”

“You still think about the weight of your weapon rather than its edge at times. That’s the key difference between the two. A staff is all weight and no edge; a sabre is all edge and, once it’s bonded to you, no weight. I favour the staff when I can’t use my sabre openly. It’s remarkably easy to make the switch, as you’ve no doubt discovered. And it’s a good weapon for a Jedi when a sabre is inadvisable – more for defence than attack, and not necessarily lethal.”

“That’s why I like it. I don’t want to hurt anyone – usually – but I don’t want to be hurt, either, or let anyone hurt my friends.”

“My sentiments exactly. That’s why Lightning Squadron always had a no-kill policy, and insisted on the same for any joint missions. There’s always a way, if you look hard enough.”

Before matters could get too philosophical, R2 trundled in to remind Rey that they were supposed to be meeting up with the rest of the Resistance the next day, and should therefore be heading for the _Falcon_ very soon. Both women got to their feet, a little more slowly than they might have done earlier, and made their way back out of the cave system. Hel walked with Rey and R2 back to their ship to see them off.

“Does anyone here know who you are?”, Rey enquired as the freighter (parked a comfortable distance away, as was standard practice) came into view and R2 sped up, eager to begin the pre-flight checks ready for takeoff.

“A few may have guessed. Two of the people who liberated Lothal during the Rebellion were Jedi – Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger. The Order is remembered fondly here, but I don’t dare risk word getting out, not when there’s already a First Order presence around. To most people, I’m just that crazy old witch who comes in to Kothal now and again for supplies, and helps out or causes problems for the invaders when she can. It’s the safest way.”

They had reached the _Falcon_. Hel clearly knew her well from the rebellion. “Good to see you again, old girl. And you, Chewie.” Rey’s co-pilot had been combining this mission with a supply run, and just come out to greet them. He replied to Hel in Shyriiwook, echoing her sentiments, with an edge that reminded them that they were on a schedule.

“Will I see you again?”, Rey asked as she prepared to board the ship and return to the war.

“Force willing, and I certainly hope so. I’m not planning on going anywhere just yet, in any sense. Well, look after yourself, watch your friends’ backs, make sure they’re watching yours, and may the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you.” Rey retreated up the landing ramp as Chewie closed it. She could just see the old woman standing at a barely safe distance, still smiling, one hand raised in farewell, and did the same until they could no longer see one another. Of all the people Rey had expected to meet on this mission, an architect droid and a Jedi from before the Clone Wars were probably not among them. She had gained so much from both – critical repairs from one, and treasured memories from the other. Hopefully she would see them again one day. They had the air of people who intended to try to out-wait eternity, and would certainly endure a mere First Order occupation. They would still be there when their enemies were gone, and whenever Rey needed something repaired, or remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to make it absolutely clear: this isn't the end of Hel's path, and it certainly isn't the end of the series. It's just where my brain happened to go after the last fic.


End file.
